Contrast

Other pics: Hiding | Defiance | Halo | Final

Defiance

Other pics: Hiding | Contrast | Halo | Final

Halo

Other pics:  Hiding | Contrast | Defiance | Final

Final

Other pics: Hiding | Contrast | Defiance | Halo

Disconnect

It’s dark as we drive back. I rub my arms and ask the guys to turn down the air-con. The dull ache in my gut has dissipated, but it has not been a good day. Diz and G left me far behind — no fault of theirs, but my non-performance has rattled me. Especially after Malek — one of the legends — had told me it was time to kick it up a gear… because I was ready.

So what happened?

Just an off day, I tell myself, as I sit waiting for the boys to be done, my muscles stiffening in the cooling air. But no, it wasn’t just the non-performance. It was that vicious upwelling of anger too. I thought I was bigger than that.

Pulling into myself, I grab my phone, compose a quick message. Khui replies. I feel something grab me, lift me. My dangerous Boer — always feel safest with you.

They’re ready to go. Only two routes, but I’m spent. My attempts to take a quick nap before dinner are sabotaged. Diz is trying to get advice on whether he should pursue a project management opportunity or a sales position. Like I’d know. But my ears perk up as he speaks animatedly of the renewable energy industry in Malaysia.

Over dinner, the need for sleep uncoils the knot inside me. But something feels… dormant, still, inside me. Like a switch I forgot to flip. So the light stays off.

Pyjamas at lunchtime

Diz and I are bickering again. “Let’s get out of the car before she makes any more noise,” he tells Kauf. I laugh, take a jab at his parking skills. Payback for what he put me through at Baroque today.

Kauf wearily tells us to stop. I think he’s still smarting after I sent Diz as my proxy to pick him up.

“Unacceptable,” he’d fumed when they’d stopped by my place afterwards. “Even a 40-year-old woman would have been more tolerable.”

Diz had taken objection, of course. “I’m better looking than any 40-year-old woman.”

Then again, it could have been my response to Kauf’s request to “dress up”. I’d laughed — you’ve got to be fucking joking, Kauf. And now, he shakes his head at the sight of my jeans and Nike baby doll. But I’m happy — playing the dirty backpacker hottie as I do best.

This one, he concedes.

It’s Diz’s go, so Kauf retreats from the pool table to the seat beside me. Roving eyes, a leer, then he tells me he’s dropping by tonight.

“No, you’re not,” I say, smiling sweetly.

No time for a reply: Diz is done. Again they trade places. Diz doesn’t look at me, lost in his own world, playing in his mind for the championship. I might have taken the opportunity to steal his drink.

It’s nice having these two around. Diz is safe — girlfriend in the margins, and when we’re at Baroque I get to be one of the boys. Kauf? Not safe, exactly, but harmless, provided you keep an eye on him and learn how to deflect his advances. And he’s easily thwarted.

I pull my feet up, sit cross-legged against the wall, and am glad yet again not to be in a dress. A story flits back into my mind.

“You can dress up all you like after dark,” she teased, “but I know you’re in your pyjamas all day.” Light as air with these two by. There was no threat here, no unwanted attention or unwelcome advances. They were here, and she was safe. No need for originality or brash designs on her attention. All she wanted was – and then it dawned on her. Fights over salt. Weeknight nerd-fu. Pyjamas at lunchtime. Everything just the way it was.

Before Kauf, before Diz. Before Loup, Gar and Khui. Before I had dared. This was all I’d had — my hypotheses, my thought experiments about what it might mean — how it might feel — to be poly. And the glimpses I’d mustered back then have proven, every now and then, to be eerily prophetic. Not just of being poly — that’s not really what tonight is about — but how I long to connect. Tonight, it’s about the closeness, the familiarity, the presumptuousness.

Then Kauf drops into my lap, expresses astonishment, swears he didn’t see me there. I laugh, kick him off and make a couple of idle threats. Nothing that will stick.

Sugasm #105

Submitted Return To Sender and Hero, not realizing they only allow one a week. Would have preferred Hero to make the list, but there you go.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #106? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Bonbon
“I feel him start; then he groans into my mouth, a deep helpless sound, and I know I’ve got him.”

Domme virginity lost
I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. You know that, don’t you, sweet boy?”

Reality Check: Lessons Learned From Clients
“From my conversations I’ve learned a number of things that have helped me, educated me and surprised me.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Belladonna Likes Heroin

Editor’s Choice
Each Mirror has two sides

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

help on its way

Just because I can’t ask for support from Gar doesn’t mean I don’t call for back-up from other quarters. help was adapted from an email to Adde. And this comes from an exchange with my older man. Always seem to recover some of my invincibility with him.

Hey you. Have had a long day. Send me off to bed with some of your sweet words?

Sweet words my arse! I am a dangerous Boer!

Oh for goodness sake, stop faffing around and say something shocking then! For all your bluster, honestly.

I hope you sleep like you did next to me. Maybe you could play a little and think of my tongue all soft on you. Slowly opening you.

Mmm. I’ll leave you to imagine how you set me on fire. Good night, Khui. X

Sleep now. Send updates asap.

Sleep or send? Oh well, you ordered sleep, and I’m not one to defy the orders of a dangerous Boer!

Nite sweet one. Like in taste and not personality. Xxx

Watch it or I’ll klap you one.

I sometimes forget how cute you are.

help

Adapted from an email to Adde (he’s been mentioned anonymously once so far, and tonight he gets a name).

i feel like i’m fucking coming apart sometimes. this whole being cheated on thing has messed me up a little deeper than i’d like to admit. and i catch myself trying to entice the bastard back. it’s a stupid game, and he plays it better and it’s so unhealthy for me. but i keep forgetting to stop. i used to be better than this. i’m so determined to win, to pound him into the ground and leave him a total wreck.

hmmph. easy to talk hard. but it’s not even what i’m really after. i miss how he feels. i miss lying quietly against him. god, if only it was as simple as having him tell me that he’s sorry, that i was something a little more than a throwaway — if i could believe him if he actually said all that.

it’s… not just this. there’s work too, and i’m wondering how i trapped myself in a job that leaves me hollow. i think i need — just for a little while — comfort, familiarity, certainty, security. of all things, security. you know, so i’ll recover the strength to get what i want out of the corporate monkey thing and the poly thing. i feel jumpy and paranoid. anything that was already in a delicate state is in disarray now.

ugh. i really do miss being invincible.

That’s why I turn to my older man. Always seem to recover some of my invincibility with him.

Hero

I miss being not-so-sure how being poly could hurt, and being entirely certain that you could work through it, no matter what.

I miss having “yes” on the tip of my tongue for everything, everyone. None of this analyzing and (more often than not) concluding that it’s not what I want.

I miss not knowing what I wanted, and therefore wanting everything. Wanting more than I do now.

I miss daring to like people just the way they were. Now I fear their demands, neediness, dissatisfaction, pessimism, apathy, possessiveness, lies.

I miss trusting that every person I meet just wants to be happy — doesn’t want to make someone else miserable. Like I’ve forgotten why I wanted to be poly in the first place.

I miss loving with no regrets, and at least sorta knowing why. No inexplicable yearning, especially not for the wrong person.

I miss my enthusiasm to explain ethical sluttery to anyone who would listen. Now I’m tired, sick of having to defend myself, and I always assume I’ll have to.

I miss being invincible.